


Baby, I'd Follow You to the End of the World

by Epselion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Archaeology, Blood and Injury, But with guns, Character list will be expanded over time, I know this pairing makes no sense in existing, I promise it will make sense, I swear, M/M, Smut, Treasure Hunting, but like... bad people only, give it a chance, they have a background story and everythin, they kill people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-03 00:55:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14557356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epselion/pseuds/Epselion
Summary: A collection of prompt fills and short stories that all tie together over time in one universal AU. Tags and Characters will be updated accordingly.Nathan Drake and Bill Weasley are perhaps the most skilled duo of Treasure Hunters this world has to offer. It's just that trouble seems to stick to their asses like honey, good thing they have each other, forever and always.





	1. Until the Luck Runs Out

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1: 
> 
> Prompt fill for the theme '4+1' Four times something happens, and the 1 time it doesn't.

They’re in Peru, the night is late and dark, and they sneak through the jungle with soft footsteps. It’s hard to see, the moon and stars hardly light the way with the denseness of the foliage, and to shine light is a risk that they can’t allow to take. Two is hardly an advantage against a camp full of mercenaries, but then again- It’s not like they haven’t seen odds like these before. Drake always brags about it, how many he has faced off against before, odds that nobody would even want to bet on, not even remotely, and yet he’s still standing. Bill is used to less, he hasn’t dabbled in the shady circuits as much before he and Drake reconciled. It’s not the same anymore, they’re not little street-rats anymore that scour for wallets or food that people don’t pay enough attention to. This is the big game, with far higher stakes- And far more danger. 

Bill sometimes wonders how Drake ended up in that little world to begin with, but when he considers their mutual mentor from back in the day he can understand. Sully has his heart in the right place, but his judgement of character is far less trustworthy. Either way, after their paths separated they ended up doing the same sort of things, but in such different ways. And now they are together again, roaming the jungle, trying to steal from the lion’s den just so that they can beat these assholes to the big prize. They’ve been lucky so far, which seems to be the only thing they have an endless supply of. 

They sneak around the campment, looking for what they need. Drake insists that these guys have paperwork about the caves, and if they can glimpse at it they should be able to stay ahead. They’re careful, but as always they are not careful enough, such risks never truly go right, and they are found out. Lights go on, men come from everywhere, bullets fly, it’s just as predicted. They shelter themselves in one of the tougher buildings, hoping that the bullets don’t make it through the foundations. They are lucky to walk away, the camp quiet and the papers in their pocket, they run away into the night, with their lives. 

“Lucky us.” Drake chuckles. “Again.”

Bill grimaces as they run for the hills, miraculously sporting only a few grazes to tell the tale.

“Lucky, until the luck runs out.”

 

It’s warm and humid, but blissfully silent. The lights are on in their hotel-room, old lights in dusty covers. Bil has always had a warm place in his heart for Egypt, but it feels better with Drake, as if it’s even more home now. He is happy every day that he found Drake again, that their lives crossed after their history together. Bill knows he had been lucky, his parents found him back again- A miracle of its own, that all the way across the world, his parents still found him back, and Drake said he was happy for him- But Bill knows his world fell apart when his only sense of family left him for real family. Now, it’s all good again, it’s whole. 

Drake’s hand slides over his side, calloused, big… So warm. The man smiles up at him, his other hand trailing over Bill’s hip-bones. 

“I love you.” Drake mutters, smirking a bit. 

“I love you too.” Bill hums, tucking his hair back behind his ear. 

It’s loose, red hair pooling everywhere at once. His mother complains every time he is home. It’s too long, it’s too much. Just like the silver earring that dangles from his right ear. But she has only been his mother for a few years of his life. She tries to make him normal, always afraid that the life of the streets has stayed in him. And then Drake looks up at him, runs a strand of his hair between two fingers and he just grins each time.

“You’re so beautiful.” He tells him. “So… You.”

“Me?”

“Nobody else could ever be you. There’s nobody like you.” 

Bill smiles and leans down, pressing his lips to Drake’s, a warm kiss. He sits back, biting on his lip as Drake holds his hip, canting up his own pelvis. They haven’t made love this slow in years. It’s sensual, it’s intimate… Quiet and private. Bill places his hands on Drake’s shoulders, rolling his hips slowly, keeping his eyes focused on Drake’s. They’re lidded, the icy blue of them safely blanketed in long black lashes. Drake is strong- Angular… The American God of beauty standards, but he can look so soft, so extremely open and expressive. The lines in his cheeks when he smiles, the slight crinkle near his eyes, the way he carries his rather impressive physique with such gentle gestures when he wants to. 

“Ah… Careful.” Drake hisses as Bill’s movements pull at his freshly stitched side. 

“Sorry.” Bill sighs, easing a flat hand over the compress. “You’re lucky it was just a graze, you could have been off way worse.” 

Drake just tuts.

“We’re always lucky, baby.”

“We are… Until the luck runs out.”

 

The snow is bitingly cold, their fingers have gone numb with the ice around them. Climbing has become hard, a hazard, and the drop down is far. Their breaths are fog and the wind howls through crevices. The fortress that sits deep in the ice is a maze of ruins and towers. It’s so well hidden, sunken in the ice for years, hidden away. The ice is just split far enough for the structure to exist between it, and they are certain that this place will offer answers about the Keys to Atlantis. They’ve found two of them so far, but without this third one they will still be nowhere, the map would be incomplete. They have been followed, they are always followed. Most are disposed of, but they have to keep their eyes peeled. The only advantage they have over the masses is their wit. They are smarter, they have the nimble upper-hand, they can climb and jump distances that the mercenaries are not made for. 

Bill hoists up on the platform that they have been climbing for. His fingers are frigid and he doubts that any other climb will be safe at all, the strength in them is gone. Drake huffs as he pulls up as well and heaves a sigh, looking around to take in the new vantage-point. They have been looking for hours now, this place is simply too massive, and the competition doesn’t help that much either. Bill tightens his ponytail and rubs over his ears. They don’t have full gloves, no earmuffs, nothing too densely packed to restrict their movement, so the cold seeps in so much easier. 

“So, what now?” Bill asks. “You see anything?”

Drake takes out his journal, and pages through it with effort, his fingers also too stiff for smaller movement.

  
“It’s hard… But I think we should-” 

A shot rings out and they both duck, knowing that they make easy targets. There’s no shelter, so Drake grabs Bill by the sleeve of his jacket, dragging him along. Bill slips his gun out of the holster and fires some cover-shots to the general direction of their assailants as he runs with Drake. The platform is so slippery that they can’t run as well as they want to, and Drake tries to get them out of the line of fire. They slip, Drake first, pulling Bill with him as he falls. They slide off the platform and down onto a connecting arch, unable to find purchase. They fall, slip, and finally land on a smaller slab farther below. Drake stands and checks the both of them, then laughs as he shakes his head.

“Wow, that was a lucky accident.”

Bill scoffs, rubbing his sore knee as he stands up and studies the corridor that they can access from here.

“Yeah… Until the luck runs out.”

 

Bill gazes up at the ceiling as he hears Drake move through the small cabin. They are alone, they have shaken the others, but they have to stay the night in this old hut. It’s old, abandoned, small. The thing sits here in the middle of woods, and they can thank their lucky stars that it’s here. Drake shows up with a bucket of water and an apologetic grin. 

  
“No real water to shower… But I got something at least.” 

Bill hums and sits up, the old bed creaking ominously. It’s warm here at least. They managed to get the fireplace set-up, and the fire roars now, alive. It’s a blessing, as it has started to snow again outside, the trees all white already. 

“How about food?” Bill asks. “Anything in the cupboards?”

“Canned fish and canned beans.” 

“Gross.” Bill huffs. “But it’s food at least.”

Drake nods and takes a rag from the bucket, wringing it out before he takes Bill’s leg. It’s a bit bloody, but it looks worse than it really is. The bloody edges are ragged and dark red, but the cuts aren’t so deep, and the bleeding has stopped already for the most part. Drake is gentle, helping him out of his shoes and pants, then washing out the blood that is still there. When his skin is clean Drake sighs, chewing on his lip.

“That looks better at least.” 

“Well yes, I’d hope so.” 

  
He’d dodged a bullet, being able to withdraw his leg just before the trap around it could fully close. He could have lost a whole leg, now it’s just scrapes, and hopefully without tetanus. Drake slides into his vision, brushing his hair away and kissing his lips. He keeps saying how relieved he is that they’re okay, asking if it hurts anywhere. Bill just shakes his head and keeps kissing him. Drake lets himself be tempted into bed with him, cosying up and nudging his nose against Bill’s face. They forget about the fish and the beans, they let the fire burn out slowly as they take in each other’s warmth instead. The pain in Bill’s leg subsides as he focuses on better things, on the warmth between them, the caresses his fingers make and the ones he receives in return.

“You sure got lucky, beautiful… You could have been off way worse.”

Bill hums and tucks his face against Drake’s shoulder.

“We’re always lucky… Until the luck runs out.”

 

The pace feels frantic and the corridors are narrow. They can’t make a stand like they usually do, there’s so many ways to be ambushed, they can’t afford to rest anywhere. The corridors are dark, their flashlights dance across the walls when they run. There is a panic to it that isn’t usually there, something that feels cornered. They don’t know the way out, all these tunnels look like each other. The ruins are vast and yet each part of them is narrow and similar. Drake tosses a grenade over his shoulder as the gunfire of others approaches. The explosion of it resonates, but they’ve already outrun its blast.

“Do you have the eye?” Drake asks, halting shortly as he looks across the four different options they have from their path. 

  
“Yes.” Bill pants, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “But it won’t do us much good if we don’t get out of here.”    


He tilts his head and yanks at Drake’s sleeve.    


“This way.”

They disappear into another tunnel, running down into the dark again until the ground turns mossy and slippery. They lose their footing and they fall, sliding down the corridor in a way that could be considered fun if this was a water-park instead of some fucking death-trap. Their hands find no purchase, and light rushes in, an opening, shortly after which they are ejected from a ledge and tumble down into a large pool of water. Both immediately swim to surface again, and Drake laughs as he realizes that they’ve excited the ruins, swimming to the edge of the pool. Once it must have been a water feature for a massive courtyard-garden. Now it’s mostly wild and untamed, stone tiles and statues cracked and reclaimed by the jungles of India. 

“Hah.” Drake laughs. “Would you look at that.”

They clamber out of the water, dripping onto the old tiles around it as they check their packs to make sure nothing has fallen out or loosened. Bill sullenly wrings out his hair and fixes his ponytail again, huffing out a breath. 

“Of course I manage to pick the one tunnel that fucking throws us out there.” He mutters.

Drake smirks and shakes his head. 

“Who cares? We’re out. Now, let’s get out of here, while luck is still on our-”

A shot rings out from somewhere higher, and Drake instinctively ducks to dodge. He draws his gun and looks around. 

“We should head for the trees, they can’t see us… There...”

He halts when Bill is no longer where he was standing earlier. He has dropped to the ground, he’s bleeding. He stoops to the floor, frantically looking around where the shot came from. He has seconds, he knows. 

  
“Bill...” 

“Go.” Bill groans. 

“Not without you I won’t. Where did you get shot?”

“In the fucking back.”

Another shot rings out, and it misses Drake by only a hair. He curses, running away from it a bit as he decides to take cover behind an old pillar. They’ve got a good shot in their midst at least. He lays low, but the panic seeps in. He can’t move without a shot ringing out near him, chipping stone, but they have to leave, soon. Bill doesn’t have time, he’ll lose blood fast. Another shot, but it comes from somewhere else this time. Drake turns to get eyes on the culprit. It was Bill, he’d turned onto his back and shot the sniper that had Drake pinned. Drake runs to him and smiles softly.

“Oof, they got you good.” He murmurs. “All the way through.” 

“Yeah… It feels like that too.” 

Drake pressures the bleeding with a flat hand, pushing on his chest. 

“Seems like that luck finally ran out, huh mate?” 

Bill smirks and shifts his hand to hold Drake’s.

“We make our own bloody luck. Now help me up. We don’t have to tempt it while we still have some.”

Drake nods and drags Bill to his feet, taking up most of his weight. 

“That’s a good saying though.” He chuckles. “When the luck runs out, we make our own.”

Bill smiles and nods.

“Yeah… That sounds like us.”

 


	2. Stay with Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2: 
> 
> Prompt fill for a dialogue prompt: “I wish this moment could last forever…”

The longer they walk, the more grave Drake realizes their predicament is. Despite his insistence that it’s not as bad, Bill is hurting, he can hear it on his breath- Feel it in the way he starts sagging against him more and more. He won’t last much longer, walking with blood dripping out of the wound. They’ve tried to staunch it, plugging the bullet-mark with some ripped off fabric on each end. Drake had gladly sacrificed the sleeve of his shirt for that. The agitation and continuous movement of walking is doing him in though, he won’t last very long if they don’t find a shelter that can cover them for long enough to patch Bill up at least a little.

The last little blessing they do have is that they’re not being followed. The jungle is dense and vast, and the mercenaries that they had tried to dodge were still mostly held up in the maze of the temple. They’re alone between the trees, and it’s not even a comfort. Bill groans and Drake looks sideways to check on him. He’s paler even than usual, and his eyes are open, but only barely. He sighs and hoists him closer against him.

“You hanging on?” He asks. 

“I promised I would.” Bill mutters. “But I’m so fucking tired.”

“You can take a nap when we find shelter, I promise.”

“Yeah, where’s an abandoned spa when you need one?”

“Seriously though, you look bad. Do you… Do you need me to stop for a moment?”

“If we stop now we’ll only cut my chances shorter.”

Drake nods, looking ahead again.

“I love you.” Bill murmurs. “Just in case...”

“I know.” Drake replies. “I love you too.”

They walk on, Drake doing his best to keep his mind clear, to remember what their best chances are. Bill deteriorates, he stops talking eventually, responses reduced to simple grunts or whines, or nothing at all. Drake’s begun to lose his faith in a good outcome when he spots something nearby. It’s a small camp, or not even that. A few trucks and resources from the mercenaries, the supplies they had to leave before moving to denser jungle. It’s mostly unguarded, only a few men go around the supplies to make sure it’s kept safe. It’s a chance… An opportunity. Drake carefully lowers Bill against a nearby tree while they are still under the cover of the foliage. 

“Wait here… Okay? I’ll get us out of here.”

Bill shortly blinks his eyes open. 

“Where you going...” He slurs. 

“Just keep quiet, try to stay awake.”

He pats him on the cheek and leaves a kiss on his forehead before he sneaks towards the slightly sloping hill that holds the precious bounty that he’ll need. It’s quiet, and it could have almost been peaceful. Drake would have loved taking his chances to sneak into a truck and drive off before the guards would know, but Bill is in no shape to pull off such a quick and sneaky move, and they might need other supplies as well. 

He draws his gun and checks the clip. 20 rounds, that should be enough to clear four guards, especially if he can keep himself under the radar for as long as possible. He slowly clambers up against the hill and hides himself behind the cover of a truck, waiting for one of the men to walk close enough. Drake yanks him back by the belt and delivers a hard blow to the throat, leaving the man sputtering while Drake chokes him silently until he passes out. Three to go. He aims from behind the truck and gets a clean headshot on one of the other’s nearby. He fires, the blast surely alerting the last two. 

Indeed, some cursing, and some shouting, the idiots give themselves away too easily. He sneaks his way around a few crates, changing his viewpoints while they are still wildly looking around. He ticks one off with a shot to the leg and chest; firing in quick succession so that the other has no chance to retaliate. He rises to his feet and fires at the other, catching his shoulder and using the disbalance to leave another two in the centre of the guy’s chest. It’s precise and skilled, Bill would be able to appreciate his efficiency. He runs back down the hill, cursing as he slips and slides on all the loose leaves. He drops to his knees next to Bill and pats his cheek again. 

“You awake?” He asks.

Bill hums, moving his head a bit, but showing no reaction beyond that. Drake smiles thinly and pulls Bill up against him again. This time he doesn’t manage to keep up on his own legs. 

“Come on, baby, just a bit more.”

“Mnnghhh...”

He nods and shifts his grip dragging Bill onto his shoulder and trudging back up the hill, his foot complaining with agitation. He’s tired too, he’s sore and he’s so so worried. He doesn’t know how exactly he keeps going, but he does. He brings Bill up the hill and picks out one of the vans. He opens the backdoors and props Bill up against the back wall. The van is empty as expected, the cargo already moved out by the guards. Drake rummages through the supplies as he has Bill settled in place. 

He throws anything into the van that could come in useful. The boxes hold everything one could need to set up a quick camp, so Drake steals a few bedrolls, he steals a tent, he steals the entire crate with medical supplies that he finds and he throws another crate into the back as well, this one filled with food and water. He props a jerry-can with gasoline into the passenger-space of the van and gets in. He drives off, with adrenaline pumping through his system so harshly that he can feel each beat of his heart all the way to his fingers and toes, his hands shaking and his head spinning. 

There’s nobody, no army to stop him, no grenades blowing out the tires. It’s as if he’s just one of the others, driving off like he belongs. He backs out until he has enough clearing to turn the van around, and when he’s ready to go forward again he drives fast, tires throwing up loose dirt as he makes sharp turns and twists through the jungle. Finally he pulls over more than an hour later, parking the car at the edge of a forest clearing. 

The river runs some 50 feet away, wild and spinning, yet not so far below that one wouldn’t be able to reach a hand into it to feel the pull of the water. They’ll be safe, Drake is convinced of that. So finally he slides from behind the wheel and opens the van again. He’s glad to see that most his haphazard measures to keep things in place have held. He clambers in and scoots over towards Bill, gently putting a hand on his cheek. 

“You’ll be okay.” He murmurs to him. “I promise.”

 

When the morning comes it’s so quiet, so comfortable… For a moment he thinks that he’s dreamt everything. He feels warm and harboured, and yet he remembers too much that is so vivid in his mind that he can’t have just made it up. The horrific sight of the red stain spreading too fast on both the front and back of Bill’s shirt- The blood on his hands as he tried to pull the bunched and sated pieces of his sleeves from Bill’s wounds. The tremble in his fingers as he tried to stitch as well as he could, staunch more bleeding in the weak light of his flashlight. That sickly look of intensely white skin smeared with dark red. 

He opens his eyes and shields them from the glare of sunlight that passes through the makeshift curtain that he’d put in front of the van. Someone has pulled some of it aside, and it leaves a bright and glaring streak of sun across his face. He sits up and rubs his eyes, slowly shifting them across the van, towards the very back where he’d made Bill comfortable. The top one of the four bedrolls that he’d stacked for him is shifted a bit, The sleeping bag on top is pushed away, Bill is up… He has to be.

He scrambles to the other end of the van and almost throws the rest of the tent-flap aside. He’s there, just sitting there in the long grass of the riverbank, legs crossed and staring out across the river, shoveling cold canned soup into his mouth- From the looks of it, it’s his third tin. Drake snorts a bit and sighs, slowly swinging his legs over the edge of the van, looking at him. He looks so right in this landscape, the red of his hair just the right shade between the yellows and golds of the forest in the early morning. His skin soft, almost as white as the bandages that are packed tightly around his abdomen. 

“You’ll get a fucking sunburn without a shirt on, Weasley.” He finally shouts.

He sees Bill smiling, even if he doesn’t turn his head enough to see his whole face. 

“I’ve built up a tolerance over the years, I think I’ll live.”

Drake hums and steps out onto the grass. It’s still slightly dewy, fresh under his feet despite the building warmth. He looks out across the river and the other end of the bank- There the trees rise high, the other end definitely higher than where they are, eroded rock exposing ancient tree-roots of the giant spires that reach up to the sun. It’s idyllic, quiet, the only sound from the water that rushes past them, the rustles in the trees of birds and other critters. Bill sets down the can he’s just emptied, wiping his hand over his mouth. 

“How do you feel?” Drake asks. 

“Hungry.” Bill replies, chuckling. “I woke up absolutely ravenous.”

“That’s the bloodloss.”

“Yeah… I’d figured.” He mutters. “But I’m fine… More so than I’d feared.”

“You had an amazing doctor.” 

“I’d bet.” Bill snorts. “It feels like you went Frankenstein under these bandages. 

“I did my best to stitch you up neatly.” Drake admits. “But we both know you are the more nimble-fingered one.”

“Uh-huh.” 

Drake sits down next to him, shuffling closer until he can rest his cheek on Bill’s shoulder. 

“You’re sweaty.” He murmurs. “Like… Chilly sweaty.”

“No, like you’re squeaky clean.” Bill counters. “We could both use a bath.”

“All in due time.” 

Bill hums and turns his head, pressing a kiss to Drake’s forehead.

“Thank you… For saving my life.”

“Like I could afford not to. Your mother would murder me.”

Bill snorts loudly at that and shakes his head, resting his own cheek against the crown of Drake’s head. Drake smiles and shifts his head so that he can place a soft kiss against Bill’s jugular. It’s pulsing steadily, a bit frailer than usual, but steady. He’ll be okay, like he’d said he would be, and the relief is palpable in the air around them. He closes his eyes and sighs out.

“It’s beautiful here, Nate.” Bill finally says. 

“It is.”

“Can we stay here for a few days?”

“If you want.”

“I wish this moment could last forever…” He laments then. “Or well… Maybe not this exact moment, minus the pain in my gut would be nice.”

Drake chuckles.

“So demanding.” He drawls. “Can’t even appreciate an idyllic moment without complaining about a bullet-wound.”

Bill huffs and shakes his head. 

“Seriously though… It hurts like a bitch, don’t we have morphine or something?”

“There’s probably some in the medical supplies.” Drake sighs. 

Bill slowly shifts and stands up, walking away. The moment is gone, but Drake doesn’t mind, he’s just relieved to know, that there will be many more to come. 


	3. Mending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3:
> 
> Prompt fill for Kiss prompts: 30: a gentle “i love you” whispered after a soft kiss, followed immediately by a stronger kiss

They live in silent recluse, as if their haven exists outside the known world. Despite his swift recovery and his resilient nature, Bill needs a lot of rest. Oftentimes they rise and sleep with the sun, strengthening themselves over time. Drake feels that they should leave, move away. He’s not used to staying in one place long… Save for home perhaps. What if they lose valuable time on the mercenaries? What if they lose the lead? What if the mercenaries do stumble on their hide-out here? Bill seems less concerned with that. He reminds Drake each time that they have the Eye, an artifact that is key on the path to their destination… Without it the road will not reveal itself. Nor is he worried, they would have found us by now if they could have, Bill claims each time. 

Still, there are other reasons that Drake wants to move to more populated territory. Plumbing and such are a big factor to that. As it is, they can manage their life with what they stole from the supply-camp, but it’s dwindling fast, especially the medical supplies. He stops bringing it up after the third day. He knows Bill would give in when he’s ready to. After all, finding a new place to stay won’t be a matter of just an hour or two. They would have to drive back onto the main roads, find a small town to ditch the van and move on to more anonymous transport, find a place to sleep and keep their eyes open to make sure nobody picks up their trail in the meantime. With mending wounds such a day would take a lot out of Bill, he’s not strong enough to do it yet.

When Bill admits that they have to move it’s a bittersweet conclusion. They’ve stayed for almost a week, and the riverbank and its peaceful surroundings have started to become familiar. Drake tries to mark it on the map, but they both know that the odds of ever finding it back to return to are small. Still, they know that they need to go, that they’ve used up the time in silent recluse that this place had to offer. Drake returns the crates with their last supplies to the van and clears the den they’ve made in it. Bill stays at the riverbank as long as he can, knowing he’s not much help at the moment anyway, and instead tries his hardest to soak in what he sees, almost forcing it to dig deep into his memories. 

It takes them ten hours to go through the motions of their protocol. They sell the van for a small price and use the money to buy backpacks and train tickets. They take their most important supplies with them and they take the train to Kochi at the coast. The option for boats as a means to get away from the mainland if need be is attractive, and the city has the facilities they need. By the time that they have secured a room in one of the suitable hotels it’s well after sun-down. They both feel a bit of loss at their new surroundings. It’s a rather dark room, noises of the city travel up to their floor through the opened windows, the air is heavy, the light-bulbs dim. 

At least they have a bathroom of their own, plumbing and a clean room. It’s a bit old and dark, but it’s clean and safe. Drake runs the bath the moment they come in, letting it fill up steadily as they unpack and undress. They take the medical supplies to the bathroom with them, putting the different packets in the sink. Bill settles on the edge of the tub, hands absently smoothing over the mosaic tiles that are set in the concrete. Drake sits on the ground in front of him, his hands slowly setting to work on unwinding the bandages around Bill’s midsection. Bill stares at his hands as he does so, his gaze a bit dazed. 

“It’s starting to heal.” Drake murmurs. “A few days from now you’ll probably be able to switch to stick-on compresses.”

“Probably, yes.” Bill echoes.

“I know you didn’t want to leave yet.” Drake sighs.

“No… Nate… It’s not that. It was beautiful there, sure… But we’ve seen plenty beautiful places in our lives, no doubt that we’ll be seeing a good few more.”

Drake bunches up the old bandages and puts them away in the small trash bin under the sink. 

“Then what is it?” He asks. “You seem down.”

“I’m just so tired of… Well of being tired. This past week I’ve barely moved a muscle, and still I feel worse than the times that we have spent hours running and climbing in the jungles.”

“You’re wounded. Of course you’re sore and hurt, hell… It’s been touch and go for a while when I had to patch you up.”

Bill smiles thinly and leans back a bit, grabbing both of Drake’s hands by the wrists.

“Yes, you’ve said. And that brings me to my second issue. You.”

“Me?”

“You look at me like I’m porcelain suddenly. You haven’t even dared to kiss me, and with kiss I don’t mean the little chaste pecks you give. I don’t need that, Nate. I don’t need you to look at me like my mom does, like it’s going to fucking kill me to be here with you.”

“I don’t… That’s not what I feel.” Drake murmurs. “But you’re not the only one that got rattled. I had to sit there and scramble to keep you alive. I had to keep calm as every move I made to save you made more blood run out and I had to tell myself that you still had enough left to recover- Even though I wasn’t entirely sure if I was lying to myself.”

“I know.” Bill sighs. “But I’m alive. I got up and walked away… And if we both start to treat this like something big, it will become that.”

It hangs in the air for a moment, both knowing that the way they decide to handle this will forever affect their bond. Drake knows that Bill is scared of losing their connection, their synergy. If he carries this sort of fear with him that Bill could die on him, he’d start to smother him. The entire reason that they work as a pair is their utter faith in each other, in their skill and capability… He can’t be the one to let that go.

“You’re right.” He says, smiling at his lover. “I’ve bounced back from some crazy shit in this lifetime, I should be able to do the same when it comes to you.”

“You should.” Bill chuckles. “And I’m sure you will.”

“Yeah… Actually, I think I got a good idea on where to start.”

“You do?”

“Yup.” Drake chuckles. “Come here.”

He slowly comes to his knees and runs his hands upwards, leaving their perch on either side of Bill’s wound and instead reaching for his neck. He softly pushes a few stray strands of his hair away and presses his lips against Bill’s. He never gets over how soft and full they are, how easy they yield with some tempting. Drake moves one hand to lean heavily on the edge of the bath as he presses closer, kissing him properly, but gently. 

“I’m sorry...” He murmurs. “I love you.”

Bill lets out a soft hum and tilts his head. Drake takes it as a hint and kisses him again, with more gusto, trying to shake the feeling at the back of his head that he can’t be too intense. Bill knows his limits, he should trust him on them. He groans, pushing his tongue into the other’s mouth, licking almost hungrily for that sort of lingering hint of sweetness that he knows so well. It’s intoxicating, he’s missed it, he knows… He’s a fool for thinking he had to deny himself this in the first place. 

“Nate...” 

“Mmmm… I know.” He murmurs. “I know.”

“I love you…” Bill whispers to him. 

“I love you too… I do… So terrifyingly much.” 

He presses their mouths together again, a desperation behind this kiss as he comes close enough to wrap himself around Bill, securing his arms around his waist, feeling the chilly skin of his chest against his own front, feeling the ghosting tickle of some of Bill’s stray hair against his chin and collarbones. He inhales and he smells him, he licks and he tastes him… He hears him. Everything in his senses is Bill, and he drinks it in, more and more. Muscles shift and tense up as Bill does his best not to topple back into the water, and Drake runs out of purchase to keep his weight from leaning them back too far. 

He pulls away for that same reason, breathless and still reluctant to let go. Their lips part with a soft noise, and he hears a displeased little rumble chase after his breath from Bill’s throat. He looks up into his eyes and smiles at him. Such blue eyes, so deep. Drake himself has icy blue eyes, sharp and full of patterns like crystals of snow. Bill’s are not like that, they’re vibrant ocean blue, the sea sits somehow captured in those eyes, and Drake swears that he can see it stir if he stares long enough. He softly bumps his nose to Bill’s cheek and sighs.

“The water should be cold enough to sit in by now.” He mutters. 

Bill hums and chases for a few more nuzzles, his lips brushing absently over the coarser stubble on Drake’s jaws. Drake slowly moves away, but he makes sure that the contact stays in some way, his hands trailing over Bill’s arms as he coaxes him to shift his body so that they can both get into the water. Drake sits down and eases his hands over his lover’s back as he sits Bill between his legs. He feels the man’s legs clip behind his back, his arms draped over Drake’s shoulders. They’re so close, chest to chest and nose to nose. 

“Is it okay if I… Can I...” Drake starts. 

Bill chuckles and starts trailing kisses along Drake’s jaw and neck, twisting his hips so that they sit close together comfortably.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine.” He says. “I’ll tell you if it hurts.”

Drake nods, his fingers playing with some of the red hair that frames Bill’s face, chuckling a bit as he sees it fall right back in place when he tucks it behind Bill’s ear… Just as stubborn as the guy that wears it. He slowly reaches down in the water, his hand following the line of Bill’s side before he stops at the curve of his hip, slowly inching along the dip inwards to his centre. He hears Bill’s breath pause with anticipation shortly and he feels him shift, pushing his pelvis towards Drake, presenting almost in a silent gesture of encouragement. 

Drake hums and doesn’t shy from the grip, finding the base of his lover’s cock and giving it a long and languid stroke to the tip, almost feeling it respond. Bill lets out a soft sigh, if it’s relief or simply enjoyment Drake can’t quite tell, but he imagines it roots in both. He lets out a laugh and peppers the skin he can reach with his mouth in kisses. Throat, neck, shoulders and arms, he kisses them with fervour. He feels Bill’s fingers curl on his back, the bite of blunt fingernails just pressuring the skin. He moves his hand slowly and with just enough pressure that he knows Bill can feel the drag of his rougher skin. 

“Nate...” Bill murmurs next to his ear. 

“Ssh… I got you baby.”

Bill keens a bit and drops his forehead on Drake’s shoulder, slowly rocking his hips back into Drake’s hand, the water between them sloshing in the same rhythm. One hand leaves Drake’s back, and after some ghosting touches Drake feels those same slender fingers play around the head of his own cock, teasing first before they find the pace that Drake himself has set. Drake groans, his other hand firmly grasping at the small of Bill’s back, guiding his hip-movements as if they were in a dance. 

It’s wordless, and almost quiet, both of them moving with each other, inhaling and feeling the other as if it was all new again. Drake nips his teeth on Bill’s skin, just enough to agitate his skin and pull some red to the surface. Bill’s own lips are plastered to his neck, using Drake’s flesh to muffle his moans and sighs. Drake keeps his eyes closed, focusing on the sensations instead, how they build… Sparking down his veins in anticipation and bliss. It becomes so much so sudden that he is gasping when he feels the sharp jolts in his gut as it coils. It’s as if Bill knows, his thumb swirling over where Drake’s cock is most sensitive as his hand provides the friction he wants. 

He himself speeds his motions and as Bill starts to shiver he knows that he’s got him on the edge too. He softly pries Bill’s fingers away from his own cock and takes both of them in one hand, stroking them together to get that last closeness they both need. Bill uses the shift to throw his arms around Drake’s shoulders and ride up against him so close that Drake can only just barely move his hand between them. He cums as he feels Bill’s thighs twitching and he listens to his whimpering release as he pumps through his own, teeth biting down too hard this time on the patch of skin he’s assaulting. It’s hot and breathless for a few seconds and then it’s over… Regretfully over. 

Bill slumps against him, groaning softly as Drake’s hand slips away from both their oversensitized members. The water steadies and the quiet returns, even if it’s disturbed by both their more elevated breaths. Drake slowly moves his hand to Bill’s back, tracing the subtle ridges of his spine up to his neck. His hair has stuck to his back a bit, and Drake eases it away slowly, brushing it all together. He turns his head and places kisses on Bill’s jaw and neck, humming as the other slowly starts to move again, his hands gliding over Drake’s back and his legs adjusting position. 

“Thank you.” Bill murmurs.

Drake sighs out a breath and shakes his head.

“Never thank me for loving you.” He whispers. “It’s my privilege… And it always will be.”


	4. Who's your daddy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a prompt fill for the writing group, the prompt was 'Orange Fizz'
> 
> This takes place after some Canon events in Uncharted 3 that I have rewritten to include Bill. If you want the full picture you could look for the flashback scenes of Uncharted 3. The gist of it is that they broke into a museum because Nate is convinced that he is a relative of Francis Drake, and they want to steal an exhibit piece. Incidentally this piece is coveted by a rather nasty lady and her mercenaries. Sully is the slightly sleazy thief that she has hired to pull the heist. Sully saves them from Marlowe and her cronies as he sees that she lets her men hunt the kids like animals and he tries to raise them because he doesn't like them going back to life on the street.

“Whoever taught you how to hold a goddamn gun?” Sully huffs.

  
He stands and walks over to Nate, steadying the kid’s hand.

  
“Only damage you gonna do with that is to your own bloody foot.”

  
It’s been about a week since he took these two with him. Clever little rats for sure, but sloppy, and what happened with Marlowe shook them both up pretty bad. They’re good kids, refer to each other as brothers, but he can tell they are not. They look so utterly different, have nothing much in common. They’re about the same age, a few months perhaps that separate them, but they’re both still so young. Teenagers, thirteen or so, scrappy and a bit dirty, but Sully works on that.

  
“Why do you keep correcting me?” Nate whines at him, letting go of the handgun that he’s trying to get a grip for.

  
“Because, American Sniper over there has a terrifying talent for this business.” 

  
He takes another look at Bill, too focussed to hear them in the first place, happily ticking old tin cans from the table on the other end of the roof-terrace with his assault-rifle. That kid might be skinny and lanky, but he has a feel for the whims of the gun. He takes his cigar between his teeth and takes Nate’s hands.

  
“Come on, small kid like you can’t get away with just the one hand. You hold one around the grip, nice and tight, show the bugger who’s boss, and you put your other hand at the butt here, steady the whole thing, two arms are better than one at your age.”

  
Nate huffs and nods.

  
“Is… Is this for if the woman comes back?”

  
Sully hums and shakes his head. He knows the boys are terrified. Of course they’ve both seen their fair share of shit, but nothing like this. Nothing like scrambling across the rooftops to outrun men with guns, dozens of them, firing at them like they’re rabid critters rather than kids. They refuse to sleep apart from each other, and when something loud and unexpected bangs they both duck to the floor.

  
“Don’t you kiddos worry about that. She don’t know where you at.”

  
Nate purses his lips and lets go of the gun. 

  
“Then I don’t want to shoot today.” 

  
Sully sighs, but he shrugs anyway.

  
“Nobody here will make you, alright son?”

  
Sully looks behind him to Bill, who has stopped firing too, sitting on the ground and mindlessly pushing around the empty gun-shells. He looks dejected too, a bit skittish. His hair is everywhere, a curtain across his face. He’d offered the kids a haircut yesterday. Nate gladly took it, trading his messy bob for a shorter more boyish cut. He keeps touching it and grinning to himself. Bill however, had turned into a hellion at the thought of someone cutting his hair, so it was still long and messy. At least it was washed and clean now, fluffy and red again rather than the sort of greasy dark red it had been before.

  
“Maybe putting guns in your hands wasn’t such a great idea.” Sully admits. “Truth is, kids, I don’t really know much about nothing.”

  
He hoists up his pants and sighs, raking a thumb across his mustache a few times. He could use a shave, he muses. He likes his mustache bushy and large, but the sideburns and the lines around his chin are growing a bit wild as well. He’s starting to look a bit too much like a sleazy pawn shop owner, and he doesn’t want people thinking that he’s got any ill intentions with these kids.

  
“Alright, Nate, you put those away, would ya? And you, Bill, out of the sun with ya, you’re getting red ears.”

  
Bill looks up shortly and huffs, shuffling to his feet and pushing his hair away.

  
“Oh, for god’s sake, kid.” Sully huffs. 

He takes one of the rubber bands that sat around the ammunition boxes and took Bill by the shoulder.

“C’mere.” 

He pulls the boy’s hair behind his face, taking most of the loose strands as he ties it back, messily at that. Some bangs still slip away, but it’s better than the constant slip and slide of all that hair.

“Much better.” 

Bill doesn’t talk much, but he smiles a bit and softly chuckles as he fixes the ponytail.

“Looks good?” He asks softly.

“Yeah, you got a good face, no need to hide it… Now, put some sunscreen on it, I see red under those freckles, so get out of the sun.”

He gently nudges the boy towards the stairs and chuckles as Nate starts poking fun at his new hair the moment they lock eyes. There’s some pushing and bickering, but they both disappear down the stairs with the guns that Sully took out for them to practise with. He thought it would do them well to know how to fight back, that it would take some of their fear away. He realizes he might have gone a bit fast on that regard. He should have started with something smaller, like a slingshot. 

“Alright, how about we head to the bar downstairs, and I get you boys something nice.”

They look up at him, two equally mischievous smiles. 

“Orange fizz.”

They say it in unison, smirking happily. 

“Oh, expecting favours already, were we, little rascals?” He laughs. “Bill, put on shoes, we’ve been over this.”

“I don’t like shoes.” Bill huffs. 

“Public establishments do expect you to wear them though, so if you want your horrid sugar-bomb, you put them on.”

“Bullshit.” Bill mutters, but he trudges off to the bedroom.

It’s a bit cramped, the three of them in the hotel accommodation that Sully bought. It has one bedroom, and Sully lets the boys sleep there, it feels more secure than the front room. He’ll move them soon, get them on a plane with him to somewhere better. 

“What about just socks?”

“Shoes! For pity’s sake, kid.”

He hears Nate mimic his words with a giggle and he smirks. They’re good kids, he’s never been much of a parental type, but he has good hopes for what he can do for these two. Finally Bill comes out with the canvas sneakers that belong to him on his feet. They’re old ones Nate used to wear before his feet got too large, the soles are barely hanging on to begin with, but it’s all that Bill is willing to compromise on. Sully will have to ask him what his complex with shoes really is all about.

“Fair enough, this way then.”

He takes the boys downstairs, to the small bar. It’s friendly enough, serving meals around dinner and usually finding itself rather empty at all other hours. Dust hangs in the air, illuminated by the sunlight that shines through the windows at the far end. 

“Hello there bud, a good cold pint and two Orange Fizz for the lads.”

  
“Got it.”

   
Sully smirks and waits for the man to place the order on a tray, making some theatrics in pouring the boys’ drinks as if they’re cocktails. 

  
“Alright, there we go, nice and fresh.”

  
“Thanks dad.” Bill says, reeling his in.

  
“What?” Sully chuckles.

   
“What?” Bill repeats, raising his head.

  
“Dude… You called him dad.” Nate snorts.

  
“Wh- No I didn’t.”

  
“You totally did.”

  
Sully hums and flicks his fingers a bit.

  
“Shush. I’m sure it was just a slip of the mind, you two haven’t been sleeping so great.”

  
Nate drops it, and Bill looks down at the table, pursing his lips a bit. The boys soon turn to other conversation, but Sully doesn’t listen. Dad… Slip or not, Bill subconsciously thinks dad when he sees him. It makes him feel weird for a moment, as he looks at both of them. He could be their dad, as long as they don’t have one of their own… Sully supposes he can live with taking on the role instead.


End file.
